


be as you've always been

by thewalrus_said



Series: long distance [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Don't copy to another site, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Meeting the Family, Morning Sex, Reunions, Riding, Spiritual Marriage, The Happy Ending After the Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21664255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said
Summary: May 28, 1890Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki,Please excuse my writing in English. I have some spoken Japanese, but none at all for writing or reading, unfortunately.I do not expect you to remember me, but I was once a patron of your inn for a period of some weeks. It left quite an impression upon me, to the point where, eleven years later and on the brink of retirement, it has been much on my mind. I can think of nowhere better to spend my last years. I am thirty-eight years old now, and plan to retire at forty - is it acceptable to you that I do so at your inn? What would your rates for such a thing be? I will have a sizable pension available to me. I have a dog, a poodle of some middle age - would she be allowed to accompany me? She is very well-trained, and loves to meet new people.I hope I do not presume too much in asking these questions. If I have, I beg your forgiveness.Regards,Viktor Nikiforov
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Series: long distance [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1561810
Comments: 68
Kudos: 213





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't leave them apart a second longer.

May 28, 1890

Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki,

Please excuse my writing in English. I have some spoken Japanese, but none at all for writing or reading, unfortunately.

I do not expect you to remember me, but I was once a patron of your inn for a period of some weeks. It left quite an impression upon me, to the point where, eleven years later and on the brink of retirement, it has been much on my mind. I can think of nowhere better to spend my last years. I am thirty-eight years old now, and plan to retire at forty - is it acceptable to you that I do so at your inn? What would your rates for such a thing be? I will have a sizable pension available to me. I have a dog, a poodle of some middle age - would she be allowed to accompany me? She is very well-trained, and loves to meet new people.

I hope I do not presume too much in asking these questions. If I have, I beg your forgiveness.

Regards,

Viktor Nikiforov

——

Viktor arrives at Yuu-topia, Hasetsu, for the second time in the summer of 1892, two bags in hand and a dog at his heels. It is nothing at all like the first time. This time, he is accompanied by Makkachin, not his father and his father’s business associates. This time, the hot springs will ease aches that have settled into his bones, not refresh his youthful vigor.

This time, he knows who waits for him inside.

The front door opens as he approaches. “Mr. Nikiforov?” the woman behind it says. Viktor recognizes Yuuri in her face. Judging from her age, this is his mother.

“I am,” he says in his best Japanese. “Thank you for welcoming me into your home.”

She beams at him. “You are welcome here, Mr. Nikiforov. Let me help you with your bags. And what a lovely dog!”

He tries to wave off her aid but she is relentless. It reminds him of Yuuri. So much about her reminds him of Yuuri. It makes his heart ache.

“We have set your room up in the family wing,” Yuuri’s mother says, leading him through the hallways, “but if you would prefer the guest wing, you must say so and we will move you.”

“I’m honored,” Viktor says honestly. “The family wing sounds lovely. I’m sure it will suit me perfectly.”

“Good, good.” They come to a locked door. She sets Viktor’s bag down to rifle through a set of keys, selecting one and unlocking the door. “I have a set of keys for you in your room, to get in the front door and into the family wing,” she says, leading him down yet another hallway. They pass two doors, then come to the third, which is on the left. “Here you are,” she says, tapping on it. “We have put you next to our son. Do you remember our son?”

Viktor’s heart clenches. He nods. “I remember him, yes.”

“Good, good,” she says with a smile. “He will help you if you get lost. Here we are.” She opens the door and they step inside.

It’s a large room, larger than he had expected. The bed is up against the back wall, soft and inviting to Viktor’s travel-weary eyes. There’s a comfortable-looking armchair under a wall light fixture on the left side. The walls are bare. A Western-style dresser has been placed against the right wall, and the far right corner is blocked off by a screen. With a woof, Makkachin trots off and disappears behind it.

Yuuri’s mother sets the bag she is holding down. Viktor follows suit. “You must rearrange the furniture and decorate to your liking,” she says. “Nothing is off-limits. If you need assistance, please ask, and my husband or my son will help you.” Viktor nods. She smiles. “Welcome to Hasetsu, Mr. Nikiforov.”

He smiles back. “Thank you. And please, I hope you will all feel comfortable calling me Viktor.”

“Viktor,” she repeats. “Yes, of course. Welcome to Hasetsu, Viktor. Now.” She claps her hands together. “You must be tired after your travels. Dinner is in two hours. Feel free to rest until then. I will give you the tour after dinner and you can bathe, if you wish.” Viktor nods. “I will send my son to show you the way to dinner when it is time, assuming I can find him. He has been absent all day. But he knows you are coming, so he will turn up eventually.” She smiles at him again and leaves, the door clicking softly shut behind her.

Viktor wanders over and sinks into the chair with a sigh. Absent all day, he thinks. Could Yuuri be having second thoughts? He had expected Yuuri to be the one to meet him. Anxiety, a familiar companion in the last few months before his move, twists in his gut. He sighs again and whistles for Makka.

It takes a moment but she comes, padding from behind the screen across the room to him. “Where is he, girl?” he asks, rubbing her ears. “Where is your other papa? Where is Yuuri?”

“I’m here,” comes a soft voice, and out from behind the screen steps a figure, familiar and unfamiliar, longed-for for thirteen years. Viktor’s heart expands, until he can feel it thumping in his ears and toes. He stands. “There you are indeed,” is all he can think to say.

Yuuri paces to the middle of the room and stops. He’s softer and rounder than Viktor remembers, and his hair is longer, tied back at the base of his skull. Under Viktor’s stare, he blushes and ducks his head the same way he had done the last time they saw each other, when Viktor called him beautiful.

There are tears in Viktor’s eyes, and he barely has time to clap a hand to his mouth before a sob escapes it. Yuuri’s head flashes up, concern spilling out over his features, and he steps forward, putting his hands out to touch Viktor’s face. Viktor reaches up and clings to them. “I have been so scared,” Viktor confesses, his eyes falling shut. “So scared I would see you and it wouldn’t be the same, that we would just be two people to one another. But it isn’t, it feels just the same.”

A tear trickles out from under his closed eyelid. Yuuri brushes it away with a thumb and tilts Viktor’s face forward until their foreheads are touching. “Silly Viktor,” he murmurs, his own relief evident in his beloved, ached-for voice. “How many times did you tell me, these past thirteen years? We were made for each other. We are not two people, we are one person, and we are together again.”

Another sob of relief slips out and Viktor steps forward, his hands dropping Yuuri’s to wrap around his waist and his head dropping down to nestle into Yuuri’s neck. “I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers into the skin pressed against his mouth. Yuuri’s arms come up to hold him tight and warm.

Viktor loses track of time that way, holding and being held by Yuuri, tears falling from his eyes, but eventually the tears stop coming and he starts to feel able to loosen his grip. Yuuri pulls back a little and gives him a heartbreakingly beautiful smile. “A little better?” he asks.

“Can I kiss you?” Viktor asks in reply.

In lieu of an answer, Yuuri leans up on his tiptoes and presses his mouth to Viktor’s. Viktor almost starts crying again at that first brush of lips. Instead, he pulls a hand from Yuuri’s waist and puts it to the back of his head, tilting him slightly to the side at the same time he opens his mouth against Yuuri’s. Yuuri gasps and reciprocates, pushing against him harder. One kiss turns into another into another, until they are unable to kiss any more, clinging to each other and breathing heavily.

“I love you,” Viktor says, voice low.

Yuuri beams at him, pulling him down to pass the faintest kiss across his lips. “And I love you.” Viktor noses his way across Yuuri’s face into his hair and breathes deep. Yuuri smells like unfamiliar soap and honey, and Viktor wants to bathe in it until they smell the same.

“You must be tired,” Yuuri says, after another long pause of holding each other. “You should get some rest before dinner.”

“Stay,” Viktor says immediately. “I do not think I can let go of you yet.”

Yuuri blushes but nods. Viktor shrugs off his jacket and walks over to the bed, lying down on it in his clothes. Yuuri perches on the side, taking Viktor’s outstretched hand. “Sleep,” he says softly, eyes running over Viktor’s face. “I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

Everything in Viktor wants to stay awake and memorize every part of Yuuri’s face in return, but his long travels catch up to him, and his eyes slip shut without his consent.

He is roused some time later by cool lips against his own and a hand tracing gently along his temple. “Wake up, my Viktor,” Yuuri whispers, pressing another kiss to his cheek. “It’s time for dinner.”

Viktor makes himself presentable, brushing the wrinkles from his clothes and putting his jacket back on. “We’ll have to get you a yukata,” Yuuri says. “Remind me tomorrow.” Viktor nods and pulls him close for one last kiss before Yuuri opens the door and leads him out through the winding hallways.

“Ah,” Yuuri’s mother says when they walk into the back dining area, “you found each other. Good, good. Please, sit,” she adds, gesturing to the pillows and low table. “Anywhere you would like.” There are two spaces open on the near side, and Viktor settles into one. After a pause, long enough for plausible deniability, Yuuri sinks into the other. Their knees press together. Thankfully, Yuuri’s father, seated opposite them, turns towards the kitchen as Viktor’s face flushes.

Yuuri’s mother comes out of the kitchen bearing a tray laden with bowls. She sets them down in front of them all, puts the tray on the ground, and sits next to her husband. “Katsudon,” she says. Viktor looks down at his bowl; whatever it is, it smells amazing. “In honor of your arrival, Viktor. It is our Yuuri’s favorite. Please, eat.”

Viktor, luckily, has made a point of practicing with chopsticks over the last two years, and he manages his first bite without fumbling. It is delicious, the pork tender and flavorful and the egg runny. Unable to stop himself, he lets out a little moan. Yuuri’s knee presses harder against his. “It is wonderful, Mrs. Katsuki,” he manages, once he has swallowed.

“Please,” she says. “If we are to call you Viktor, you must call us Hiroko and Toshiya.”

Next to him, Yuuri coughs. “Thank you,” Viktor says, taken aback. “With your permission, I will do so.” Toshiya smiles at him.

Accompanying the food are little glasses of sake, but the katsudon is substantial enough that Viktor runs no risk of drunkenness. Yuuri clears his bowl first but Viktor is not far behind, setting his chopsticks down with a sigh and rubbing his stomach. “Can I help with the washing-up?” he asks, once Hiroko and Toshiya are finished as well.

“Oh, no, but thank you,” Toshiya says, standing. “You go and rest. Good night.” He gathers everyone’s bowls and disappears into the kitchen.

“I will lead you back to your room,” Yuuri says quietly. “Good night, mama.”

“Good night, Yuuri, Viktor.”

Viktor follows Yuuri through the hallways, doing his best to memorize them. Yuuri stands aside to let Viktor test his key on the door to the family wing, then leads him through. As soon as they pass into Viktor’s room and shut the door behind them, Viktor sweeps Yuuri into his arms and kisses him. Yuuri throws his arms around Viktor’s neck and opens his mouth to Viktor’s tongue.

Their kisses quickly devolve in technique, becoming sloppy and hungry, which suits Viktor perfectly. There is a fire starting to burn in him, banked by exhaustion and a full stomach, but he lets it direct him, and trails a line of kisses from Yuuri’s mouth to his ear and down his neck. Yuuri whimpers, clutching at him, and twists his head to reciprocate.

Eventually, Yuuri pulls Viktor’s head up and captures his mouth in a firm, fierce final kiss. “I should go,” he murmurs against Viktor’s lips. Viktor ignores this and kisses him again, Yuuri’s fingers twitching tighter in his hair as he responds. As Yuuri pulls back, he looks rueful. “Good night, my Viktor.” He presses a kiss to the tip of Viktor’s nose. “I am happier than I can express that you are here.”

Viktor puts his lips to Yuuri’s forehead. “Good night, my love,” he whispers, and forces his hands to release Yuuri’s clothing. Yuuri reaches a hand up to trail down Viktor’s cheek and then slips silently from the room.

Makkachin, who has been sleeping on Viktor’s bed, perks up when he sinks down next to her. He gathers her into his arms as best he can and buries his face into her fur. “I love him,” he whispers to her. She woofs gently in response.

There is a basin of water on the dresser, which he uses to wash a little, and he changes into his nightclothes. It takes a bit of fiddling but eventually he discovers how to turn off the gas light, and he pads to his bed in the dark and slides beneath the covers. Makka settles down next to him, his right hand tangling in her curls.

Just as he is about to drift away, the door slides open. His eyes have adjusted to the darkness enough to make out Yuuri, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Yuuri walks up to his left side and lets the blanket fall to the ground; Viktor throws the covers back and opens his arms. With a sigh, Yuuri slips in beside him, curling up with his head pillowed on Viktor’s shoulder. Viktor wraps his arms around him, presses a kiss to the top of his head, and is asleep within moments.

Viktor’s dreams are inconsequential, little wisps that dissipate as he is slowly awoken by a shifting of the figure in his arms. He blinks his eyes open to find Yuuri looking up at him. “Good morning,” he whispers, and bends to claim his mouth in a kiss. Yuuri hums and pushes up against him.

Viktor largely left the world of insistent morning erections behind in his early thirties, but his old blood is no match for having Yuuri pressed against him all night, and as Yuuri moves to straddle him and kiss him again, the result ends up trapped between their bodies. Viktor gasps. Yuuri chuckles and slips a hand under Viktor’s nightshirt. His questing fingers trail across the hair on Viktor’s abdomen, up the crease of what little musculature Viktor has been able to maintain, and brush against a nipple. Viktor curses into Yuuri’s mouth as Yuuri tweaks it and goes in search of the other.

Viktor breaks away from their kissing and hauls the shirt over his head, tossing it to the side where it lands on Makkachin. Affronted, the dog hops off the bed and goes to continue her sleep in the corner. For the first time in their acquaintance, Viktor pays her no mind, because Yuuri’s tongue is in his mouth and his hands are tugging Viktor’s sleep pants down. Bending to press his teeth against Viktor’s neck, Yuuri wraps a hand around his erection and gives it an experimental slide.

Yuuri gets a handle on matters quickly, and soon it’s all Viktor can do to control his mouth enough to properly kiss him. He does his best, but Yuuri keeps darting away, pressing his tongue to Viktor’s ear or his jawline or the pebbled pertness of his nipple, as his calloused, clever hand works Viktor to the peak.

Yuuri’s teeth close around Viktor’s collarbone at the same instant his thumb brushes the tip of Viktor’s hardness, and that is the end for Viktor; he shudders and muffles a cry into Yuuri’s hair, tensing as he pulses out all over Yuuri’s hand. Viktor sinks back against the pillows, breathing hard, as Yuuri contemplates the substance now coating his hand and brings it to his mouth with a lick. His mouth purses and he picks up Viktor’s discarded shirt, wiping the rest away. Viktor laughs.

“My turn, my love,” he says once he has his breath back, and pulls Yuuri close to send his tongue back into his lover’s mouth. Yuuri comes willingly, opening himself to Viktor’s explorations. “Turn around,” Viktor murmurs, and pushes himself upright against the pillows. He guides Yuuri down until he is settled in Viktor’s lap, his back pressed to Viktor’s chest.

Viktor traces a light arc from Yuuri’s hip up to his shoulder. Yuuri shudders, squirming. Licking one fingertip, Viktor circles it around Yuuri’s nipple, fastening his mouth to a warm shoulder. Yuuri gasps; his hands clench on the air into useless fists. Looking down past the curve of his stomach, Viktor can see Yuuri’s cock standing proud and upright, flushed red. He licks a stripe across his palm and wraps a hand around it. Yuuri’s own hand flies to his mouth, muffling a shocked cry. “Shhhh,” Viktor murmurs into Yuuri’s skin, setting his hand to a slow stroking rhythm.

The position seems to be doing something quite extraordinary to Yuuri, for he squirms and gasps in Viktor’s arms, luscious rear end almost succeeding in rubbing Viktor back into a semblance of hardness as Viktor touches him. He tosses his head down against one shoulder and Viktor puts his mouth to Yuuri’s neck, sucking light enough to avoid a mark.

“Faster,” Yuuri whispers, voice broken. “Faster, Viktor, please, oh.” Viktor obliges, speeding up his pace and, on a sudden inspiration, tightening his grip. Yuuri’s head presses back into Viktor’s shoulder and his back arches magnificently, hips stuttering forward as spend spills from his cock. He collapses into Viktor’s arms, breathing hard, as Viktor collects his already-soiled shirt and cleans his hand.

Finally, Yuuri collects himself to slide out of Viktor’s lap and turn, and Viktor finds himself being kissed quite thoroughly, Yuuri’s hands tight on his face. He gives as good as he gets, and they spend several minutes trading lips and teeth and tongues, until Yuuri pulls back with a sigh.

“My parents will expect me in the main area soon,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to Viktor’s. “You should go back to sleep.”

Viktor shakes his head. “I neglected to take Makkachin out last night. I should see to her.” In the corner, Makkachin perks up at the sound of her name.

Yuuri presses his mouth to Viktor’s again and leaves the bed. Viktor catches hold of his hand and drops a kiss to his fingers, making Yuuri smile sleepily at him, before standing as well. “I will wait for you outside,” Yuuri says. “To show you the way to the front door. There is a meadow not far that she might favor.” Viktor kisses him again in answer. Yuuri bites his lower lip gently and leaves the room with a smile.

The blanket he brought is still pooled on the floor. Viktor collects it and settles it on his bed over the duvet before starting to dress. Yuuri is indeed waiting for him when he is finished, and together they make their way out of the family wing. Viktor is close to memorizing the hallways; he will miss the excuse to wander them alone with Yuuri once he has them locked in his mind.

Yuuri points him towards the front door and vanishes into the kitchen. The meadow is a five-minute walk from the inn, and Makka delights in it, rushing around to sniff as much of it as she can before nature calls her to business. Viktor romps with her as well as his old bones can, and she fetches a stick for him several times before the heat of the morning gets to them both and they return home.

Hiroko serves him breakfast as soon as they get back, and he eats with relish, watching Yuuri bustle about from the corner of his eye. “What will you do today?” she asks. “Get to know the town?”

Viktor swallows. “I would like to get to know the town, yes,” he says. “Is there any way I could be useful to you? If this is to be my home, I would like to help in any way I can.”

Hiroko exchanges a look with Toshiya, then turns back to him. “Viktor,” she says. “My son looks well today, does he not?”

Viktor blinks at the non-sequitur. He glances over at Yuuri, who has come to a standstill, broom in hand. “He looks well, yes.”

“He is glowing,” Hiroko says. She smiles at him. “The most useful thing you could do for our home is to ensure my son glows like this more often.”

The bottom drops out of Viktor’s stomach. “I - I do not -”

She raises a hand, forestalling his words. “Viktor. All is well. For as long as my son is happy to have you here, we are happy to have you here. That is all that matters.”

Unable to help himself, Viktor looks back at Yuuri, who is gaping, awestruck, at his mother. Viktor meets Hiroko’s gaze again. “I will do my best,” he whispers.

She beams. “That is all I can ask for. Perhaps you can accompany Yuuri on his errands this morning. That way you can learn the town and practice your Japanese. Yes?” He nods, dumb. “Yes. Finish your breakfast first.” She and Toshiya sweep from the room.

Yuuri is in his arms a moment later. “Viktor,” he murmurs, and repeats it, “Viktor,” like a prayer. Viktor kisses the top of his head and holds him tight. “I do not have to keep you a secret any longer,” Yuuri whispers. “We do not have to lie to them.” He leans back and looks at Viktor’s face. “Viktor,” he breathes again, reaching up to run a hand down Viktor’s face. There are tears forming in his eyes. Reckless, Viktor kisses him, featherlight and swift.

They gather themselves after a few more moments, and Viktor finishes his breakfast. Hiroko reappears to laden them down with bags and baskets, and with Makkachin darting around their heels, they set off for the market.

Viktor takes his opportunity to look at his love in the sunlight for the first time. Yuuri is, indeed, glowing; his cheeks are luminous as he points out landmarks of interest, looking at Viktor over and over to make sure he marks them. The sun dances along his hair, pulled tightly back, and dips under his robe to pool in his collarbone.

The market is down by the water, and it is already bustling. Yuuri darts through the crowds with a practiced ease, and Viktor notices plenty of eyes turning his way as he follows. He catches up to Yuuri at a pork stall, and obediently holds out a basket for the haul. “This is Viktor,” he hears Yuuri say as he passes over a few coins. “He is staying at our inn.”

Viktor hears that sentence often over the next hour as Yuuri leads him from stall to stall, obtaining more meats, fresh produce, eggs, and a dozen varieties of cheese. A few shoppers in the crowd call out to him, and he introduces Viktor to them as well. Viktor has always been good with faces and names, but he may require a refresher course or two in the days to come.

Finally, Yuuri takes some of the baskets and bags back from Viktor and they exit the thrush, making their way back towards the inn. “You did well,” Yuuri says, a twinkle in his brown eyes. “Soon we will send you off on your own.”

“I would much rather be with you,” Viktor says, ducking close to him on the pretense of avoiding a rock in the path. Yuuri flushes and rolls his eyes, looking anywhere but at Viktor.

Toshiya meets them in the kitchen, examining the produce with a critical eye. “Good,” he finally says. “Well done.” He ties back his sleeves and picks up a package of beef. “We will eat well tonight. No, I do not need help,” he says when Viktor offers. “I am accustomed to cooking for all our guests. Yuuri, why don’t you take him down to the beach?”

Yuuri nods, and Viktor follows him out the back door, Makkachin close behind. “Weren’t we just at the beach?” Viktor asks.

“That was the public beach. There is a private lake not far. Good for Makkachin, yes?” he adds, bending down to scruff his hands through her fur. Viktor puts a hand to his chest at the sight.

The lake is about fifteen minutes by foot. “Faster on a bicycle,” Yuuri explains, “but it is a nice day.” He flushes again as he says it, and Viktor lets his hand drift over to brush against Yuuri’s. Yuuri’s pinky links around his for the briefest of moments.

Makkachin is well familiar with beaches, and is in the water within seconds of their arrival. Viktor laughs and begins stripping his shoes and socks, Yuuri following suit. Yuuri ties the hem of his robe a little higher and Viktor rolls his pant legs up, and together they wade out after her. She romps like a puppy, coming within inches of knocking Viktor fully into the water more than once. “Did you bring a bathing costume in your luggage?” Yuuri asks after one near miss.

Viktor nods. “I remembered Hasetsu was on the water, I thought it might be needed sooner rather than later.”

“Good thinking,” Yuuri says. Viktor can feel his face heat at the praise, and Yuuri laughs at him.

They leave the water eventually, Makka turning her head towards the sand to sniff for treasures. Viktor and Yuuri settle themselves onto a couple of boulders nearby and watch her for several minutes.

Yuuri’s hands flutter in his lap and Viktor turns to him. “I want,” Yuuri starts, and pauses. “I want very much for, for you to be happy here, Viktor.”

His eyes are darting about the beach, avoiding Viktor’s gaze. Viktor looks around to ensure they are entirely alone, and then puts a hand out to grip Yuuri’s chin. Yuuri’s eyes finally lock onto his. “I will be happy here,” Viktor says firmly. “I would be happy in Hell so long as you were there with me, should some accident occur and you go to Hell instead of Heaven where you belong. And Hasetsu is far from Hell. So long as I have you, I will be the happiest of men.”

“You have me,” Yuuri breathes, tilting his face ever-so-slightly towards Viktor’s hand. “For always, you have me.”

Viktor’s eyes dip down towards Yuuri’s lips, but he does not dare, out in public. “I shall kiss you for that,” he murmurs. “Just as soon as we are in private.”

“Perhaps I will kiss you first,” Yuuri says, a smile tipping across his mouth. Viktor smiles back.

Makkachin chooses that moment to butt her head into Viktor’s lap, and he laughs and scratches her ears. “Have you had enough of the beach for one day, my love?” he croons to her in Russian. Then, in Japanese, “We shall have to come back with a lunch basket and make a day of it.” He looks at Yuuri. “The three of us.”

“That sounds lovely,” Yuuri says with a smile. “But Makkachin has had a busy morning. Let’s go back for lunch and a nap.”

Toshiya dishes them up bowls of something steaming and aromatic when they return, and Viktor sleeps well for an hour or so, food in his stomach and Yuuri once again in his arms. Yuuri wakes him with another kiss, one that devolves into tongues and heavy breathing and Yuuri crying out into Viktor’s mouth as their hips stutter together. “You will love me to death,” Yuuri gasps, catching his breath once they have both tumbled over the edge.

“I will love you for life,” Viktor corrects, nosing his way around Yuuri’s cheek and ear. “If I had my way, you would never die, for any reason.”

Yuuri laughs, and turns to catch Viktor’s mouth. “I would see Heaven with you one day, my Viktor.”

“Vitya,” Viktor breathes. Yuuri looks at him, a question in his eyes. “When we are alone like this, call me Vitya.”

“Vitya,” Yuuri says, tasting the word on his tongue. There’s nothing to do at that but kiss him again, so Viktor can taste it too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes. Inexplicably, inexorably, time passes. Summer peaks and fades, and fall comes creeping in. With his parents’ blessing, Yuuri gives up on his own room entirely and spends his nights with Viktor from dusk till dawn. “Wouldn’t you rather I moved into your room?” Viktor asks him once.
> 
> Yuuri shakes his head. “That room is where I spent the years without you. This room is where I will spend years _with_ you.” He smiles and kisses Viktor. “Besides, this bed is larger, and we could not exile Makkachin to the floor.”

Time passes. Inexplicably, inexorably, time passes. Summer peaks and fades, and fall comes creeping in. With his parents’ blessing, Yuuri gives up on his own room entirely and spends his nights with Viktor from dusk till dawn. “Wouldn’t you rather I moved into your room?” Viktor asks him once.

Yuuri shakes his head. “That room is where I spent the years without you. This room is where I will spend years _with_ you.” He smiles and kisses Viktor. “Besides, this bed is larger, and we could not exile Makkachin to the floor.”

One day, Viktor wakes to Yuuri sucking an open-mouthed kiss to the spot behind his ear. “Good morning,” Viktor murmurs, turning his head to catch Yuuri’s mouth with his own.

“Good morning,” Yuuri whispers against his lips. “I dreamed of you last night.” With that, he presses a kiss to Viktor’s chin, and the underside of his jaw, and his neck. The kisses trail down and down, Yuuri pausing to suck a nipple into his mouth before trailing his tongue over Viktor’s bare stomach. Viktor lifts his hips and Yuuri tugs his sleep pants down, then lifts Viktor’s slowly-hardening cock with one hand and presses a kiss to the tip.

“It must have been a good dream,” Viktor says. Yuuri smiles at him and then slides his mouth down Viktor’s length, tongue warm and wet against Viktor’s skin.

Yuuri sucks him gently, head bobbing slowly up and down as his hand works the rest of Viktor’s erection. Viktor rests a hand on the top of Yuuri’s head and watches him, sleep still receding from the edges of his vision.

After a time, Yuuri evidently decides Viktor is hard enough for his purposes and pulls back with one final lick around his head. He crawls back up Viktor’s body, kisses him, and takes hold of his cock again. Viktor’s hands fly to Yuuri’s hips as Yuuri guides him into what proves to be an already stretched and slicked hole. Viktor bites his lip, fighting back a groan at the thought of Yuuri preparing himself, oiling his fingers and setting them to work, stifling moans of his own while Viktor slept next to him.

Viktor is quite certain he will never tire of the face Yuuri makes when Viktor fills him. It is nearly pained in its pleasure, equal parts surprise and glorious smugness - almost exactly how Viktor himself feels when he is inside Yuuri. Yuuri settles his rear against Viktor’s hips, braces himself on his forearms, and kisses Viktor again. Viktor lets his tongue snake out and caress Yuuri’s, pushing a hand up into his hair as they devour each other.

“I dreamed of the night we fell in love,” Yuuri says into Viktor’s cheek, his voice almost too soft for Viktor to hear.

“A good dream indeed,” Viktor replies. “I dream of it often.”

“Mmm,” Yuuri hums, shifting his weight ever-so-slightly over Viktor. “But in my dream, instead of putting your finger to my lips and letting me taste you, you kissed me instead. You took off all my clothes, and then your own, and had me against the wall.”

“As I - oh - as I thought of doing when you sucked my finger into your mouth,” Viktor says, eyes falling shut as Yuuri begins to rock back and forth.

Yuuri kisses his jaw and the corner of his mouth. “Then you took me to the pool and had me again in the warm water.”

“You would never have let me,” Viktor says with a huff of laughter. “The pool takes hours to clean.”

Yuuri sits up a little and presses a kiss to Viktor’s forehead. “That night I would have let you do anything.”

“And now?” Viktor returns his grip to Yuuri’s hips, plants his feet, and thrusts _up._ Yuuri mewls against his mouth. “What would you let me do now?”

“Anything,” Yuuri gasps, lips brushing Viktor’s. Viktor kisses him as savagely as he could manage and pushes up again. “Anything, _anything,_ oh Vitya, oh my Vitya, _anything.._.”

Later, after Yuuri comes gloriously over Viktor’s stomach, after they gather around the basin in their room and wash themselves, they make their way out of the family wing. Toshiya meets them with bowls of natto in hand and a wide smile. “Your mother received a letter last night,” he says to Yuuri as they settle at the table. “Tell them, Hiroko,” he says over his shoulder.

Hiroko comes out of the kitchen smiling as wide as her husband, a piece of paper clutched in her hand. She hands it to Yuuri and sits down with her own breakfast. “Oh, wonderful!” Yuuri says, eyes skimming the paper. “Mari is coming to visit,” he explains, looking up at Viktor.

The natto turns to cement in Viktor’s stomach. “That’s wonderful,” he echoes, pasting a smile onto his face as he interrogates his feelings. _Anxiety,_ he recognizes after a long moment. He fears her coming.

Yuuri and his parents are still talking, and he forces himself to tune back in. “She will be here in a week, and staying for three,” Yuuri says to him. “She wrote a month ago but the letter was delayed.” He hands it back to Hiroko.

“You must be so looking forward to seeing her,” Viktor says. “How long has it been?”

“Two years,” Hiroko tells him. “She was able to stop by on her way to Tokyo two years ago.”

“A long time,” Viktor says. Under the table, Yuuri took his hand.

Viktor is able to shake off his anxiety in the market with Yuuri, but it comes back in spades when Yuuri is corralled into assisting Toshiya with dinner for the inn’s guests. He takes Makkachin to her meadow and watches her play, thinking hard. By the time she trots over and flops with her head on his knee, he has drawn a few conclusions. What is rattling him most is the uncertainty of it all - how will she react to his presence in her home, in what is almost certainly her old room? Will she know his relationship to Yuuri? How would she react to that? He can still hear Yura shouting at him, when Viktor had told him of Yuuri and his intentions to “chase a fairy tale,” as Yura had put it. Could he weather that kind of disapproval again, or worse?

And of course, despite Hiroko, Toshiya, and Yuuri’s best efforts and assurances otherwise, Viktor knows he was still a stranger in Hasetsu, still an outsider. He will have to make himself scarce during her visit, to ensure she had as much uninterrupted time with her family as possible.

“Alright, Makka my girl,” he says, pushing himself to his feet. “I think that is the best we shall do for today. Time to head back.” _Head home._

That night, he lays with his head in Yuuri’s lap, Yuuri’s fingers playing through his fringe as Yuuri reads to him from a book of Japanese poetry. It would take a stronger man than Viktor to be anxious in such a state of utter bliss, which is perhaps why, when Yuuri sets the book aside with a sigh, Viktor reaches up to trail a finger over his lips and says, “My love, about your sister...”

Yuuri takes Viktor’s hand in his and kisses his fingertips. “Yes?”

“How will you explain me?” Yuuri frowns, and Viktor goes on, “My presence, I mean. That I am an eccentric European who wished to retire here will perhaps go unremarked-upon, but I am in her old room, in the family wing. Will she not have questions?”

Yuuri sighs and sucks Viktor’s finger into his mouth for a moment. Viktor lets the rest of his hand splay across Yuuri’s soft jaw, waiting for him to speak. Finally Yuuri says, “I suppose I had expected to tell her the truth. That you are here for me, _with_ me. That she has acquired another brother in her absence, by love if not by law. That you are part of the family now.”

Viktor studies the curves of his face, thrown into relief by the dim gaslight. “Do you think she will be receptive to that?”

“She was raised by the same parents I was,” Yuuri says, “in the same environment as I. Who knows what biases she may have picked up in the wider world, but she was as... _unconventional_ a child as I was, and her mind is unparalleled. I would be surprised if she could not at least resign herself to it. If I tell her I am happy...” He sighs again and refocuses his gaze on Viktor’s face. “But I shall say nothing if you are uncomfortable with her knowing about us.”

“She is your sister, darling.”

Yuuri taps lightly on the end of Viktor’s nose. “Yours too, now.”

“‘By love if not by law,’” Viktor quotes, smiling. “What I meant to say was that you know her far, far better than I. I am content to trust your judgement.”

“Then I shall tell her,” Yuuri says, “and hope this visit offers her an opportunity to come to know you.”

Viktor leans up and kisses him, a soft and sweet caress that Yuuri returnes in kind. Viktor could spend hours just kissing Yuuri, and has, lost in the pleasures of his mouth. He puts his hands to Yuuri’s face and kisses him again. Yuuri slips a hand under Viktor’s shirt to run, gentle, up the curve of his spine, making him shudder. “I love you,” Viktor whispers against Yuuri’s brow.

“As I love you.”

The week before Mari’s visit seems to slip by, the hours ticking past no matter how Viktor tries to stop them. “I’m nervous,” he confesses to Yuuri’s shoulder the night before her arrival.

Yuuri puts a hand to his face. “I will not say that you have no need to fear, for you know how often I am needlessly afraid,” he says. “But for once I am not afraid. She loves me, and so will come to love you. You will see. By the time she leaves, you will laugh at ever having feared her coming.”

Mari arrives by lunchtime the next day. Viktor had met her before, during his first stay in Hasetsu, but her face is long gone from his memory, so he looks upon her anew while she greeted her mother, father, and brother. She favors her father, he decides, but not her brother, who takes after their mother. “And this is Viktor,” Hiroko says, directing her towards him. “He has retired to our inn. You will see much of him, no doubt, while you are here.”

She shakes his hand with a firm, unyielding grip, brown eyes raking over his face. “A pleasure, Viktor,” she says.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he says. “I was just about to take Makkachin on her walk, so I will leave you with your family.”

“But, lunch,” Yuuri says, giving him a quizzical look.

“I have a sandwich, it will suffice. Enjoy your meal,” Viktor says, and makes good his escape.

He will not be able to get out of dinner so easily, he reflects on the walk to the lake. Nor does he especially want to; missing just one of Toshiya’s meals was a wrench, and he already feels Yuuri’s absence at his side. 

Makkachin woofs and presses against him, as if to fill the empty space. Viktor kneels and pets her furiously. “Yes, Makka my love,” he says, kissing her soft head. “I shall always have you. Come along.” He stands and they resume their walk.

He eats his sandwich on the same boulder he and Yuuri had sat on during their first trip to this beach, watching Makkachin play. Viktor lets himself drift, thinking of Yuuri. He had feared disappointment before he left Russia, and hoped for happiness, but no part of him had been prepared for the utter joy that was living with Yuuri, waking tangled in his arms every morning, watching him eat and smile and walk. Kissing his mouth whenever Viktor had the urge, as long as they were somewhere private. Hearing his words in his sweet, musical voice, after so long reading them on the page. On this beach he had once told Yuuri that Hasetsu was far from Hell; indeed, it was Heaven itself. _Yuuri_ was Heaven itself, incarnated into one soft, round man with long hair and warm eyes. Viktor suddenly misses him terribly. He whistles for Makka and gathers his belongings together.

Yuuri is with Mari in the front hall, but when Viktor comes through he catches his eye, and as Viktor makes his way to their bedroom, he hears soft footfalls behind him. Once the door to the family wing is closed behind them, Viktor turns and pulls Yuuri into a kiss. “I missed you,” he whispers against his lips.

“Why did you leave?” Yuuri asks, putting his arms around Viktor’s neck. “We needn’t have been apart.”

Viktor sighs. “Mari hasn’t seen her family in two years. I have no wish to insert myself into the reunion.”

Yuuri presses his lips to Viktor’s again. “You are part of her family too now, as I have told you. I want her to know you.” Another soft kiss. “Come help Father with dinner,” he says, pulling back with a reluctant twist to his mouth. “He is making katsudon for Mari tonight and requested your help specifically.”

Viktor has obeyed Toshiya’s instructions enough times that the man lets him loose on the rice and eggs without supervision, and when he tastes them, he favors Viktor with a wide grin. “Well done, Vicchan,” he says, clapping Viktor on the shoulder. “Next time I will start you on the meat.”

They cart the bowls out to the table with pride. Mari digs into her bowl with a groan and the rest of them follow suit. Viktor keeps quiet as the conversation flows as freely as the sake; Yuuri keeps throwing him little looks but does not comment.

Dinner done, Mari rubbs her stomach and yawns widely. “You will be wanting sleep soon,” Hiroko says, starting to stack the bowls. “Now, Viktor is in your old room, so we are putting you in Yuuri’s room while you are here.”

Mari raises an eyebrow. “Then where will Yuuri sleep? If you think to put me on his floor, my back will have to have words with you.”

Viktor tenses. Under the table, Yuuri’s hand finds his knee and squeezes it gently. “I will sleep with Viktor,” Yuuri says, calm and mild. “As I have done since he arrived here.”

The table goes quiet. Viktor stares at his empty bowl, ears burning. In the back of his mind, he can hear Yura and his father shouting at him. Yuuri’s hand keeps up its pressure on his knee; without it, he would likely have fled already.

“Well,” Mari says after a few moments. “If that is how it is, then that is how it is. I will take your room gladly, little brother.”

Hiroko places another bowl on top of the stack in her arms; the sound snaps Viktor out of his paralysis. “I will help you with the dishes, Hiroko,” he says, standing.

“You will do no such thing,” she says mildly. “You know the house rules, Vicchan. Yuuri will help me with them, and the cooks will rest.”

Viktor feels his face flush but he nods. Yuuri stands next to him, squeezes his hand briefly, and follows his mother into the kitchen. Viktor still cannot bring himself to look at Mari, but he feels her eyes on him. He flees.

He finds himself by the pool and goes to sit by its edge, the heat from the water welcome in the autumn chill. He wishes idly for Makkachin, but there is no way to fetch her from their room without going back through the dining room. She is likely asleep anyway, after a long afternoon of playing on the beach, and he would not take her rest from her.

“If I were a more paranoid woman, I would say you hated me,” comes Mari’s voice from behind him. Viktor closes his eyes. He hears her footsteps pace closer, and the sound of her settling down next to him. “As I am not, I must conclude that you fear me.”

Viktor forces himself to look at her. She is smoking, cigarette held close to her face. Her eyes are narrow and lock in on his as soon as he presents them. “You have not seen your family in a long time,” he says. “I have no wish to intrude.”

“Ah, but I am given to understand you are now a part of that family,” she says, taking a long drag on her cigarette. The smoke trails up from her lips when she breaths out. “You have nothing to fear from me. So long as you make my brother happy, I will not make trouble for you.”

Viktor nods jerkily. “I am glad to hear it. It is my life’s mission to make him as happy as I am capable of.”

“Hmm.” Another puff in and exhale. “And how happy are you capable of making him?”

Viktor sighs. “You shall have to ask Yuuri. Hopefully, it is at least one tenth as happy as he makes me.”

“You love him.”

“Desperately,” he confesses. “And for a long time.”

“Enough to uproot your life for him. Mother tells me you are from Russia and have retired to come here. Your Japanese is quite good.”

He smiles a little. “I have practiced for thirteen years. Ever since I met Yuuri, it has always been my intention to come back here. To come back to him.”

Mari stubs her cigarette out on the ground. “I remember my brother of thirteen years ago, Viktor, and though I love him dearly, he was too shy and retiring to inspire that kind of loyalty in anyone.”

Viktor shakes his head. “That was not true the night we fell in love.” She raises an eyebrow and gestures to him to go on. “It was my party’s last night here,” he says, casting his mind back. “I had escaped the cigar smoke and whiskey of my father’s business partners and made my way out here. Just to that wall,” he adds, pointing. “Yuuri found me there about an hour later.”

“And then what happened?”

“We talked,” Viktor says. “Mostly me at first. I confess to having found Yuuri attractive from the moment I arrived, but something happened that night that made me feel as though I had no choice but to unburden myself to him. I think it was God, telling me that here was my soulmate, here it was safe to just _be._ He told me later that he could feel it too, and eventually he started to talk as well. He told me about himself, and I told him about myself, and we could both see all the ways we would fit together.” Viktor looks down at his hands, unable to meet her piercing gaze. “After several hours we fell silent, and just sat next to each other. The moon was in his hair and he was smiling, and I have never before or since seen a sight more beautiful than your brother smiling at me. I knew myself to be as firmly in love as I would ever be. More than I had ever hoped to be.”

Mari pulls her knees up and wraps her arms around them. “Yuuri says you wrote to each other.”

“Before we parted I convinced him to send me one letter. We had to part, but he committed to one letter and I committed to one response, and we would see where it took us.” Viktor smiles, remembering the day Yuuri’s first letter had arrived, a mere week after Viktor had made it home after his trip. “It took us here.”

When he looks up at Mari again, there are tears rolling down her face. “I am happy to hear my brother inspired such love that night,” she says. “He was so insular, I worried he would never find anyone to love outside our family, and it has always seemed to me he required more love than even we could give him.”

“He deserves all the love in the world,” Viktor says. “I am honored to have been the one chosen for him. He is the greatest blessing God could have bestowed on me.”

Mari takes in a sharp breath and wipes her face on her sleeve, then pushes herself to her feet. She bends and puts a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “Do not disappear again,” she says. “I would like to know you better before my time here is done.” He nods, and she turns and goes back into the inn.

Yuuri is already abed when Viktor slips quietly into their room, curled around Makkachin, breaths coming deep and slow. Viktor disrobes and slides into bed behind him, gently placing an arm over Yuuri’s waist and pushing his nose into Yuuri’s hair. “Did you have a nice talk with Mari?” Yuuri mumbles, heartbreakingly sleepy.

Viktor kisses the back of his neck. “We discussed how much we love you. Sleep, my own.”

Yuuri clumsily pats the hand resting against his stomach. “I love you too, Vitya.” Viktor falls asleep smiling.

Mari stays for three weeks, helping out at the onsen over her parents’ protests and joining Viktor and Makkachin on their walks. When she leaves, she hugs Viktor as tightly as anyone. “Be good to him,” she says in his ear. “And if he is not good to you, write to me immediately and I will sort him out.” Viktor laughs and lets her go.

The inn settles back into its usual routine after she is gone, and Viktor finds he misses her. Mari is sharply funny and clever, and it had been a joy to watch her and Yuuri discuss books and the latest news.

A week after she left, Yuuri sits with him on their bed one night and says, “I have to go to Fukuoka tomorrow. I will likely be gone all day.”

Viktor pouts. “Can I come with you?” He perks up. “Your birthday is in a week, and I still have to get you a present. What do you want?”

Yuuri laughs. “I do not want a present. Your presence in my life is gift enough, my Vitya.” Viktor preens. Yuuri laughes again and kisses him. “Stay here,” he says. “It is just some business I have to attend to, and my heart will be warmed by the thought of you and Makkachin in our home, waiting for me to return.”

“Waiting impatiently,” Viktor says, pouting again. “Waiting desperately by the door. Makka will pine, you know.”

Yuuri kisses him again, slower and deeper. “I shall pine too,” he says, voice pitched low. Viktor feels his cock stir and returns the kiss, drawing Yuuri down atop him on the sheets.

When Viktor wakes the next morning, Yuuri’s side of the bed is cold save for where Makkachin lay curled up, and there is an envelope on his pillow. _Vitya,_ it reads, in Yuuri’s familiar script. Viktor opens it.

_My Vitya,_

_I would not trade your being beside me for the wide world, but I find I miss writing you letters. There is something calming about arranging my thoughts for your consumption, knowing that you will open the paper that I have touched, and read the words that I have written specifically for you. It is an intimate act, writing you a letter, far more intimate than composing a letter to anyone else, because I know what I write will be committed to your heart. I know you will feel the love that I pour into my ink and scratch out over this paper, because I feel the love in your own letters to me._

_I am sorry for leaving without waking you, but you looked so at peace in your dreams that I had not the heart. I hope this letter will make up for my absence, and I hope Makkachin does not pine for me too desperately. I will likely be back very late, so do not feel the need to wait up for me. I shall see you in the morning, and be reunited with the largest part of my heart when your eyes are upon me again._

_Love,_

_Your Yuuri_

Viktor wipes the tears from his eyes and turns to Makkachin. “Your other papa is a wonderful letter writer,” he says to her, putting a hand in her fur and scratching gently. “He makes me fall in love again with every word.” Makkachin huffs and licks his forearm.

Viktor spends the day in a haze, walking through the market acutely aware of who was not with him and going about his chores with a decided heaviness to his heart. As he collects the guests’ plates and bowls after lunch, Hiroko comes up to him and puts her hand on his cheek. “He will be back, Vicchan,” she says, looking into his eyes. “It will not make the separation have been easier, but he will be back.” Viktor nodds, mustering up a smile for her. She smiles back and releases his face. “I remember when my husband and I were courting,” she says. “One day he had to go to Fukuoka too, and I pined for him almost as strongly as you do now. But it was worth it, in the end.” She pats his hand. “If I know my son, and I do, it will be worth it for you too.”

Despite Yuuri’s request, Viktor does wait up for him. He had studied the train timetable during the day and calculated exactly how long it would take Yuuri to get back to the inn from the train station after the last train from Fukuoka, and he us correct almost to the minute. Yuuri silently slides their door open, sees Viktor sitting in bed with a book, and sighs. “I told you to sleep,” he admonishes, shutting the door behind him and starting to strip his clothes off.

“I missed you too much,” Viktor says, walking on his knees to the end of the bed. “I did not want to go a whole day without seeing you.” He tilts his face up and Yuuri, naked now, tales hold of his face and kisses him deeply.

“I am glad you did not sleep,” Yuuri admits, pressing their foreheads together. “I missed you terribly.”

“Your letter was beautiful,” Viktor whispers. “Thank you for it.” Yuuri smiles and kisses him again, lighter but with no less passion. “Come to bed,” Viktor says against his cheekbone. “I want to hold you.” Yuuri nods.

The morning of Yuuri’s birthday dawns bright and chilly. Viktor rolls on top of Yuuri as soon as they are both awake. “You did not tell me what you wanted for a gift,” he says, pressing a kiss to Yuuri’s lips, “so I have had to improvise.” He kisses Yuuri’s mouth again, and then his jaw, and down his neck. Yuuri had forgone sleeping clothes the night before at Viktor’s instigation, so it is a clear path that Viktor follows down his body.

Viktor loves to take Yuuri soft into his mouth and feel him harden against his tongue and palate. Yuuri is so responsive, hardening and twitching with every flick of Viktor’s tongue or hum from his throat, and feeling him stiffen and grow as a result of Viktor’s actions is intoxicating. Viktor keeps Yuuri on the edge for close to an hour, mapping the familiar lines and veins of his cock and relishing the way Yuuri’s hand tightens in his hair. “I think this is more a gift for you than for me,” Yuuri gasps, arching, after Viktor backs down for the fourth time. “You are a vile, vile tormenter of a man.”

It had never been said of Viktor that he could not take a hint when one was presented to him. He swallows Yuuri down whole and has him spilling into his mouth in under a minute, leaving Yuuri shaking and swearing. Yuuri tugs him up and tucks Viktor’s face into the crook of his neck, arms wrapping around him while he pants for breath. “Happy birthday, my love,” Viktor says into his shoulder. “May it bring you joy.”

Yuuri kisses his hair. “It has brought me you,” he says, still out of breath. “Joy is sure to follow.”

Once Yuuri has recovered enough to stand, they clean themselves up and dress. “Vitya,” Yuuri says, once they are fully clothed. “I meant what I said. That seemed more a gift for you than me.”

“It was meant for both of us,” Viktor admits. “Shall I make it up to you, if you are unsatisfied?”

“There is one thing I want,” Yuuri says. He kneels and draws something from under the bed that reveals itself to be a small box when he stands up. “I want for you to agree to wear this.” He opens the box, revealing a pair of golden rings, each strung on a length of silver chain.

Viktor hears his own gasp, feels his hands fly to his mouth, but it is as though someone else is doing those things; his soul has fled his body to reside in Yuuri’s hands. “Oh, Yuuri,” he says, feeling tears prickle in his eyes. “This is what you went to Fukuoka for?”

When he tears his eyes away from the rings, Yuuri is smiling softly at him. “My father told me where he went for my mother’s ring,” he says. “Luckily the shop is still in business.” He takes a step closer to Viktor. “Do you like them?”

Viktor crosses to him and kisses him. “I love them,” he whispers. “Oh, my Yuuri, put it on for me?”

“Turn around?” Viktor does so, and hears Yuuri set the box on the bed. One of the rings appears before his eyes, dangling from its chain as Yuuri lowers it to rest against Viktor’s chest. Yuuri closes the clasp behind Viktor’s neck and taps his shoulder. Viktor turns again, one hand coming up to touch the ring. “It looks beautiful on you,” Yuuri says, eyes fixed on where it lay against Viktor’s clothes.

“Your turn,” Viktor says. Yuuri turns and Viktor picks up the remaining ring and chain. He kisses the ring, imbuing it with his love and gratitude, and drapes the chain around Yuuri’s neck.

Yuuri is in his arms a moment later, their two rings tapping lightly against each other with a musical click. “You are my husband now,” Yuuri says, arms tightening around Viktor. “You are mine, and I am yours, and no one can take you from me.”

Viktor kisses his hair. “I have been yours for thirteen years,” he says, “and in all that time no one has ever been able to take me from you. But yes, I am your husband now, and you are mine.” Yuuri pulls back and kisses him, mouth hot and hungry against Viktor’s. Viktor presses a hand against the small of his back and puts one to his neck, feeling the chill of the chain against his hot skin. “Husband,” he whispers.

“Husband,” Yuuri murmurs back. “We should go out to breakfast.”

“I will follow wherever my husband leads,” Viktor teases, making Yuuri smile. They will have to tuck their rings beneath their clothing before any guests see them, but for now he looks forward to the knowing look in Hiroko’s eyes when she sees them. She had seen this coming, he realizes. She will be happy for them.

“I love you,” Viktor says, helpless. The words are not enough, would never be enough, but they are all he has. Perhaps he would write Yuuri a letter tonight, to try and capture more of the feeling in his heart. “I love you.”

Yuuri smiles at him. “And I love you.” He tucks his head against Viktor’s shoulder and sighs. Breakfast, Viktor decides, can wait a few more minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *deep exhale*
> 
> First, Yura and Yakov were NOT racist or homophobic in their objections. I tried to make that as clear as possible, but just to reiterate, their objections were solely in the realm of "you met this guy ONCE, what are you DOING," which, fair, but they didn't know Viktuuri were soulmates. Viktor keeps up a correspondence with Yakov, and about a year after getting to Hasetsu, he gets a letter from Yura: "Well???? Aren't you ever going to invite us to visit???" They all turn out fine with each other.
> 
> I feel very strongly that Viktor and Yuuri live to be 99/95 and die peacefully in their sleep in each other's arms on the same night, so they never have to live a day without each other again, so I'm making that canon for this verse.
> 
> I still have at least one more idea for this verse, so I'm leaving the series as uncompleted for now. No promises, but I still want to get them skating together :)
> 
> This one means a lot to me, and I'm pretty pleased with how it came out. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](http://thewalrus-said.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](http://twitter.com/thewalrus_said)!


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